by Fiona Faris
“James…” she whispered into the night, as if by the mere utterance, she could summon his soul to her own. Her chest ached with the intensity of the feelings that he stirred within her. “He is my savior and my damnation, for when I leave this place, my heart will remain. I will be but a corpse roaming the earth, while my very essence will haunt the shores of Skye forever.”
The Isle of Skye had breathed life back into her body; but it had robbed her of her very soul, sacrificing it to its laird on an altar of emerald green stone. Clutching the blanket in her fists, she attempted to control the torrent of sensations that coursed through her. It was as if she were lost at sea once more, desperately searching for safety. The moment that I remember who I am, he will have no choice but to send me home. I should not feel for him, but I cannot help myself. To allow myself to love him is to lose him, and yet I could no sooner cease from doing so than the tide could keep from ebbing.
“What can I do? Is there aught that I can do to save us both, or am I good and truly lost no matter the outcome?” Sighing, Elizabeth surrendered once more to slumber, sinking down into dreams of James’ arms wrapped around her body as they floated in the sea, his voice whispering promises of eternal love.
Chapter Twelve
The next day dawned bright and fair. The clan gathered in an open space not far from the castle after the breaking of the fast to compete in games and to peruse the stalls of the traveling vendors selling their wares. Men and women from the neighboring castles came to participate in the festivities. James wished that he could have invited Duncan and Marra to the gathering but had felt that it would be too risky; however, he could not help but wonder if he had not made an error in judgment. Had he invited them and the blackmailers had been angered enough to cause a disturbance, at least he would have known who they were; but he doubted that he would have been able to silence them in time to keep the clans from learning the truth and causing an all-out war. Had such been the case, Duncan would not have made it off of the island alive.
“’Tis a braw day for it.” William came to stand beside him, surveying the bustling crowds.
“Aye, that it is,” James agreed, smiling.
“Ye look as if ye didnae sleep at all, lad. ‘Twas it me words that plagued ye through the night, robbin’ ye o’ slumber?”
“In part, but it was o’ me own doin’.”
“Och, ‘tis sorrowed I am by it. I wouldnae wish such on ye were there any other choice.”
“Aye, I ken it. Dinnae fash, I will do what is needed.”
“I ken that ye will. Ye ken yer duty and wouldnae shirk it for the sake o’ a bonnie face.”
“Nae, I wouldnae.”
“Will ye be competin’ in the games?”
“Aye, I couldnae turn down a chance tae best ye, ye auld dog.”
“Och, laddie,” William laughed. “We will see about that.”
Chuckling, the men joined the others near the open arena. Clansmen from all over the island milled about, awaiting their chance to toss the caber or to spar with a partner. The crowds cheered for their favorites and jeered at those they disliked. When James and William took their turns, the crowd roared with pleasure as two of their most beloved warriors faced off with each other. William won the caber toss, while James, being lither of limb, won the sparring match.
James had hardly seen Elizabeth all day, but for the occasional glimpse through the crowds as she strolled about the grounds with Samuel and Agnes. He had kept his distance after his internal struggles of the night. He had vowed once more that if he could not resist her, it was best to avoid her. He would communicate with her as needed regarding their plan to thwart the blackmailers, but he could not risk more than that for fear of taking her into his arms and ravishing her. His body burned for her with the fervor of a thousand suns, and neither a swim in the cold sea or taking matters into his own hands had cooled his ardor. It was as if her very spirit burned through his veins, intoxicating him and drawing him in.
“Ye have been watchin’ that Sassenach lass all day when ye should have been watchin’ yer men or at the verra least choosin’ a bride,” William chastised. “Have ye e’en looked at any o’ the other lassies?”
“Have ye?” James asked in return. “I am nae the only one who needs a bride.”
William frowned disapprovingly. “I told ye…” his voice drifted off as he shook his head in sorrow. “Love and marriage are nae for me.”
“’Tis nae for ye, but the clan as ye ken well enough. We must both make sacrifices tae protect our people.”
“Aye, I ken it, but I feel better fightin’ about it.”
James smiled. “Aye, I can see that.”
“There are a great many lassies here tae choose from.”
“Aye, there is at that, but I dinnae ken verra many o’ them. Do ye?”
“Aye, more than I should.”
James grinned and shoved William’s shoulder playfully. “Then it should be easy for ye tae make a choice.”
William snorted. “Ye would think so, but it isnae.”
“Nae, it isnae.” James sobered and searched the crowds for possible brides. William informed of which lasses belonged to which families. He made suggestions on who would make the strongest alliances. Though many of them were bonnie to behold, they did not stir his heart, mind, or body as he had hoped.
That night they feasted in the hall once more. This time Elizabeth did not sit with James at the high table but elected to sit with Samuel and Agnes. He was not sure if it had been her doing or William’s, but he knew that it was for the best. The neighboring laird’s and their families joined him upon the dais, many of which had daughters of marriageable age. There was one lass in particular, named Fiona, who kept giving James flirtatious looks from beneath her golden lashes as he spoke with her father, Laird Donald MacDonald of Castleton, about politics and the place of Skye among the schemes of greater Scotland. They had much in common with their views, and James thought that perhaps the old laird might make a valuable ally. William agreed and a meeting was set between them all for the next day to discuss a possible further alliance.
When the music started, James arose and extended his hand in invitation to Fiona to dance. She accepted and a space was cleared below for them to dance. Other couples joined them, and they launched into a vigorous reel. Fiona’s blond curls bounced all around her in riotous joy. She laughed with delight as James spun her around and around in time to the music. “Ye are quite light on yer feet, me laird,” she praised, beaming with happiness as she was swept along.
“As are ye,” he returned the praise. He caught sight of Elizabeth watching them dance and felt a stab of guilt as if he were being disloyal to her. I cannae be disloyal tae somethin’ that is impossible, he reminded himself to no avail.
“Are ye well, me laird?” Fiona asked looking up at him in concern. “Ye have lost yer smile.”
“Aye, I am well.” He attempted to regain a more jovial attitude to dissuade her concern, but he found it to be a difficult task. When the song was over, he returned Fiona to her father and excused himself for a moment, claiming a need for air.
Exiting the castle, he stood in the center of the courtyard and stared up at the sky. The darkness was bedecked with the most beauteous of stars twinkling as diamonds in the night. Breathing the cool air into his lungs, he let out a long low sigh, releasing his thoughts and feelings into the black eternal abyss. God save me from me own heart, for if ye cannae all is lost.
* * *
Elizabeth watched as James swung a lovely, young, golden-haired lass around in his arms. A stab of jealousy coursed through her mind and heart. She felt as a lover scorned even though she had no right to feel as she did. She felt Agnes’ hand on hers and turned to find the older woman’s eyes looking up at her with compassion. “There is no hope for it,” she admitted shaking her head to Agnes’ raised brow. The older woman patted her hand and nodded in understanding. There is no hope at all.
Try as she may
, Elizabeth could not turn her eyes away from the golden pair. They seemed to glow as the sun in the fire’s light. A more beautifully paired match in looks she could not imagine. They were perfectly suited, fitting together radiantly. Others around them turned to watch them dance, no doubt thinking the same as she did. The young lass looked up into James’ face adoringly, as if he were Apollo himself. Mayhap he is… Elizabeth shook her head at such ridiculous thoughts. With the emptiness of her life, James had filled a hole in her heart, causing her to grant him with a superior status in her mind. She recognized the action within herself and swore to expand her life further so as not to be undone by the necessary loss of him to another woman.
Elizabeth searched the crowd for William. Finding him, she moved to speak with him. He had left the honored guests on the dais and was moving through the crowd, watching the faces of the gathered clansmen. Elizabeth knew that he was searching for any sign of hatred that he could find, any moment where the mask hiding the blackmailer’s true intentions slipped, revealing the angry beast within. When she reached his side she murmured quietly, “Put me to use.”
William snorted. “And what use could a wee Sassenach lassie be tae me?”
“You saw fit to use me once before at the oath-taking. I am certain that you can find another way to do so now.”
William studied her face intently for a moment. “Watch the faces,” he murmured. “Tell me if ye see anyone that looks as if they wish the laird harm in any way. Dinnae let them see what ye are doin’.”
Elizabeth nodded. She moved through the crowd to the back of the room and covertly observed those around her. Most people were watching the gloriously golden sight of the dancing couple. Most people were smiling or nodding their heads in approval at the thought that their laird might choose the young lass as his bride. Elizabeth found herself wishing that she would be received with such acceptance and joy. She turned to move and caught sight of one unhappy face among all the rest. A young man, tall, strong, well-muscled, a warrior… She moved forward to get a better look at him. As she came around the side of him, she followed his gaze to the dancing pair. The anger radiating from him was palpable.
A blackmailing clansman or a jealous lover? She eased forward to stand beside him. “They make a lovely couple, do they not?”
“Nae, they dinnae,” he growled back.
“I see.”
The man turned his sharp gaze toward her. “Ye dinnae see anythin’.”
“My apologies,” she bowed her head humbly in a faux show of remorse.
The man’s face softened slightly at the gesture. “Nae, forgive me, lass. ‘Tis nae yer fault.” He sighed and glanced back at James and the girl. “I had once dreamt that Fiona would be mine, but she is nae likely tae choose a mere warrior o’er a laird.”
Jealousy, Elizabeth confirmed silently. “Perhaps if she loved the warrior?” She knew even as she said the words that from the look on the girl, Fiona’s, face as she gazed up at James that it was unlikely to be so.
“Nae, the laird is a good man. How can she nae help but tae love him?” The warrior shook his head and turned away.
Elizabeth understood all too well. “I am sorry.”
He shook his head. “Nae, ‘tis nae but me own foolishness.”
“Nevertheless…” She found that she empathized with the poor man.
Squaring his shoulders, he looked down into Elizabeth’s face, his brow wrinkling in curiosity. “Ye are the Sassenach lass that James MacDonald fished from the sea, are ye nae?”
“Yes, I am.” Elizabeth fought the urge to walk away from him. She had been met with hostility and suspicion by so many people since her arrival on the island that she did not wish to see it now in the eyes of another. She was surprised when the usual emotions did not cross his face, but instead the curiosity remained. She took the risk of introducing herself further. “My name is Elizabeth.”
“Liam MacDonald,” he smiled turning to face her completely. “It is a pleasure tae make yer acquaintance, me lady.” He bowed over her hand with a flourish and she smiled, charmed by his generosity of spirit.
“The same is true of you, Mr. MacDonald.”
“Please, Liam.”
“Elizabeth,” she granted him permission. She did not feel it necessary to stand on ceremony when anyone in the room could have known as much or more about her own life than she did.
“Is it true that ye dinnae ken who ye are or from whence ye came tae be on our shores?”
“Yes, unfortunately, it is very much the truth.”
“Och, lass,” he shook his head in sympathy for her plight. “Such a thing would be enough tae cause madness.”
“Yes, indeed. Some days it does feel as if I were going mad.”
“How do ye bear it, lass?”
“It is not without great difficulty.”
“’Twas the laird that found ye on the beach when ye were washed ashore?”
“Yes, he has been of great help in assisting me to regain my memories.”
“I hear that ye held a place o’ honor at the laird’s side durin’ the oath takin’. A Sassenach at an oath takin’,” he shook his head is if such a thing was unheard of. “There was quite a stir o’er that among the clan.”
“I am certain that there was,” Elizabeth mused. “The laird had hoped that it would help me to remember my own past. He believes me to be a highborn English noblewoman and that being placed in a position of honor at a gathering would bring it all back as something I would have been accustomed to. He wishes for my return to England as soon as can be made possible.” She used the facts that she had at her disposal, leaving out anything that would have incriminated James.
“Did ye remember anythin’?”
“Some, but not enough.”
“I am sorry, lass.”
“Me too.” Elizabeth found Liam to be easy to talk with. He was handsome, charming, and appeared to be genuinely interested in her plight. She knew that she should move and continue to search the gathering for more legitimate threats; but Liam was the first person outside of James, Samuel, and Agnes who had treated her kindly.
“Would ye care tae dance, lass?”
“I do not know-how. Or at least I do not remember how.”
“All the more reason tae do so,” he answered smiling. He extended his hand to her, and she took it hesitantly. He led her to an open space where he instructed her on the finer points of the Scottish reel. They were joined by other couples as they laughed and stumbled their way through it. When the song ended, they moved to one of the tables where they drank thirstily from the tankards of ale that awaited them. Elizabeth looked back toward where she had last seen James and did not find him. She searched the crowd and caught sight of him leaving the hall. The golden girl Liam had called Fiona was no longer with him.
“It would appear that your lass is no longer with the laird. Perhaps you have been given one last chance to declare your affections?”
“Perhaps,” he mused looking to the dais where the girl now sat. He turned back to Elizabeth. “I wouldnae abandon ye tae the wolves, lass,” he remarked, eyeing a few of the men and women around them. Elizabeth followed his eyes and found that she was being glared at by some of the older members of the clan.
“Hatred for the English runs deep and I cannot blame them after everything that I have learned about the actions of my own people.”
Liam’s brows shot up in surprise at her confession. “I have ne’er heard a Sassenach tae be ashamed o’ their own people afore. Ye are an unusual lass, tae be sure.”
“I will be fine. Please, go and woo your love. I will still be here, safe and untouched.”
Liam smiled, nodded, and went to ask Fiona to dance the next reel with him. Elizabeth watched the door for James’ return, but many moments passed, and he did not come back. Rising from her seat at the table, she moved to the door and walked out into the night. She found James standing out in the middle of the courtyard, staring up at the sky. Moving beside
him, she looked up into his face and her heart went out to him for the lost expression that she found there. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed it in reassurance. It was a bold move on her part, she knew, but he had been there for her in her darkest hour, and she was determined to be there for him in return.
“Did you find your bride?” she asked hesitantly.
James looked down at her, his eyes distant in thought. “Aye, her faither would make a good ally.”
“She certainly seems to adore you.”
“It would seem,” he agreed halfheartedly.
“She is beautiful.”